


I'm sorry, Jord

by desastrista



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Aimeric (Captive Prince) Lives, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Spoilers, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 23:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11519688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desastrista/pseuds/desastrista
Summary: (Spoilers for Princes Gambit.)Written for the Captive Prince Anthology project.The night after Aimeric tries to kill himself, he talks with Jord.





	I'm sorry, Jord

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful artist Vraz and wonderful beta Clara (who also ran this project and is overall amazing). [You can see the art here](http://vrazdova.tumblr.com/post/163153125559/im-sorry-jord-here-is-my-piece-for-the). And thanks to everyone who supported this anthology project and helped raise money for charity!

So much had happened that it was almost dark before Jord could see Aimeric. The messengers from the Regent, the Akielons outside the gates – the castle was filled with a buzz of facts and rumors and conjecture and Jord felt utterly disconnected from any of it. All that he could think about was that small piece of paper he had been given in the afternoon. 

It had been given to him almost as an afterthought by one of Aimeric’s guards. “It has your name on it,” he had said, and Jord’s throat had been closed too tightly for him to respond.

Blood had dried on the paper. The sight of it horrified Jord, but he could not bring himself to try and remove it from the paper. 

_I’m sorry, Jord._

Three words. Three small words, and yet they had given rise to more than a dozen questions and half-formed thoughts in Jord’s mind. It was too much. He knew he had to see Aimeric. He knew he had to speak with Aimeric. 

Unfortunately, that was easier said than done. Aimeric was a valuable prisoner and had always had a few guards stationed at his cell. Things had only gotten worse after the events of last night. Jord had heard the story in bits and pieces from all around the castle: a maid had gone into his cell in the evening to tidy up and instead found Aimeric with blood flowing from his wrists. Physicians had been called in and they were able to staunch the worst of the bleeding. The number of guards responsible for watching Aimeric had increased: more people to keep him in that cell, and to keep him alive in that cell. 

Jord had also heard that the Prince and his slave -- or rather, the man Jord now knew to be an Akielon Prince pretending to be a slave -- had been in and out of Aimeric’s room. That was a piece of news Jord had not been surprised to hear. The arrival of the Regent’s men and the gruesome message they bore had sparked a rage in the Prince unlike Jord had ever seen, and Aimeric would have been a prime target for that rage. Jord had learned his lesson from earlier; he made no attempt to be in the room when Laurent and Aimeric were together.

But this chaotic day was coming to an end, and the Prince had retired to his own quarters. Now was as good a time as any for Jord to try his luck. 

It took some persuading for the guards to let Jord in, but it was almost nightfall and they were clearly tired of all the visitors. They relented in the face of Jord’s dogged persistence. Jord paused in the doorway after being let inside. He had never seen where Aimeric was being kept before. The room itself was nice, elegantly furnished. Neat. Only the broken corner of the window bore witness to the calamity of earlier. And there was the desk that looked like it had been recently, hastily cleaned; Jord guessed that was likely from where the servants had had to remove the blood. 

There was a guard stationed inside as well. A necessary measure to stop Aimeric from making another attempt on his life, and an intrusion that Jord knew must be driving the boy mad. Jord was afraid that this guard, unlike the others, might protest his presence, but instead he merely looked bored and gave Jord a nod as if he understood what Jord was about to say before he had even opened his mouth. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” the guard muttered as he left. “Nothing that will get me in trouble.” 

Jord nodded without saying anything. He wondered what the guard would consider a stupid thing to do with Aimeric. He wondered if he himself would know if what he was doing was stupid before he did it. 

Aimeric did not say anything. He was resting in bed, perhaps in deference to the late hour, although he did not appear particularly tired. Jord took a seat next to the bed. He could see how Aimeric followed his movements with his eyes, even as he studiously avoided looking at Jord. 

There was a long, drawn out silence. Jord drank in the sight of Aimeric, painfully aware of how close he had been to never seeing him again. Aimeric had been changed into a nightshift, and the bright white of the linen made him look even paler than normal. Only the flush in his cheeks stood out, an incongruous sign of life. Sweat had dampened and straightened out his curls. Rags had been wrapped around his wrists. Jord’s stomach twisted as he saw the unmistakable black of dried blood on them. And above those rags, a testimony to the absurdity of it all: his wrists had been bound together by rope. Aimeric was still a prisoner, after all. 

Jord reached out a hand to lay on Aimeric’s. He withdrew it when Aimeric flinched. 

“I didn’t think you would come,” Aimeric finally spoke. His voice sounded hoarse. 

“I tried coming earlier, but –” 

“I have had a lot of guests,” Aimeric supplied. He might have been aiming for a haughty tone, but he landed on bitterness instead. “Yes, the Prince wanted to know everything I knew about his uncle’s plans. Perhaps fortunately for me, though, there was only so much information he could get out of me in my condition.” 

There was no missing the frustration in his voice as he spoke. “It seems I cannot do anything right,” Aimeric muttered under his breath, even as he flexed his wrists with a scowl. 

“Don’t say that,” Jord said quickly. “If you had –” He could not complete the thought, and he swallowed heavily. “I don’t know what I would have done,” he finally finished lamely. 

Something flashed across Aimeric’s face, but it was gone before Jord could name it, and in its place Aimeric had fixed a carefully constructed expression of indifference. 

“Don’t be too dramatic,” Aimeric replied dryly. “I know I wasn’t that good a lay.” 

He did not look at Jord as he spoke. Jord felt each word like a cut on his skin. 

“You don’t mean that,” Jord said, and even to his own ears his voice sounded hollow. It wasn’t the first time that Aimeric had said something cruel to him. Even on the campaign south, he had gotten into the habit of joking that Jord had only bedded him to know what it felt like to do it with an aristocrat, and he would not listen when Jord tried to say it wasn’t because of that at all. 

Jord had thought it was perhaps due to some strange insecurity on Aimeric’s part. But the remarks had increased the further south they had gotten, right until the night Aimeric had run away. 

The realization hit Jord hard. “You were always saying things like that, before you left. Before you left the camp. You were trying to drive me away then. And you’re trying to do it now, too.” 

Aimeric shifted in the bed but did not say anything. He did not need to say anything when the guilt was written so clearly on his features. 

“I don’t understand,” Jord continued. 

“You must be tired of it by now,” Aimeric said. There was defeat in his voice. “Always making excuses for me. You made excuses for me after I was captured. I rebelled against the Prince and you didn’t know why, and you were still making excuses for me.” Aimeric shook his head in disbelief. Jord couldn’t help but notice how one of his curls stuck to his cheek. He fought the sudden, stupid urge to move it for Aimeric. “I’m sure you spent most of the day making excuses for me again. Perhaps when my father learns that his son cannot even kill himself properly, you’ll make excuses for me to him.” 

“He’ll be glad you’re alive.” 

Aimeric’s nostrils flared. “Laurent is glad. I’m a useful hostage. A useful son? That I very much doubt.”

“Your father,” Jord started slowly. He knew what he wanted to say next, but the words were difficult to force out of his mouth. Aimeric waited with an uncharacteristic patience. “You didn’t write anything to him. In your letter.” 

“So you saw it,” Aimeric said, readjusting his weight on the bed. He seemed cagey almost, as if even bound in his bed, weak from his ordeal, and still heavily guarded in a fortress, he was debating whether he might try to risk an escape rather than continue the conversation. It was a profoundly misguided thing for Jord to admire and a bad time to do so, but still, Jord couldn’t help but observe Aimeric’s behavior with fondness. 

His mouth, however, was too dry to talk, so he just nodded. Aimeric cast his eyes downward. There was a moment before he spoke. 

“I thought about it. I wasted time thinking about what I would say to my father. Or to the – never mind. I wasted so much time thinking about it. And in the end I realized there was nothing I had to say. Except to you. And that was all I could think of.” A sudden self-doubt seemed to seize him, and his gaze met Jord’s for the first time in the conversation. “I am sorry, Jord. Truly.” 

“You were doing what you thought was right,” Jord supplied quickly. Aimeric had been correct: Jord had been making excuses for him all day. Most of them were to himself. 

Aimeric did not, however, seem convinced. He shook his head again. 

“You can still make it right,” Jord began again. “If you tell the Prince what he needs to know –” 

There was a sudden flash of anger in Aimeric’s eyes. “Did he tell you to come here?” 

“No, of course not,” Jord said. Aimeric looked mollified. 

“I suppose that is probably not his approach. You know, he had to be talked out of having me drawn and quartered today. I doubt he’s in the mood to use you to get to me. But no,” Aimeric sighed. “I don’t know much of anything about the Regent’s plans. I was always only told exactly what I needed to know. They told me it would be an easy battle, that Laurent would surrender. And yet I think they planned it so that even if they lost and I was captured, it would be no great loss for them.” 

The thought seemed to disquiet him and he fell silent. His hands gripped the sheets. Jord reached a hand out instinctively, even though he knew that Aimeric would likely just move it away again. But this time Aimeric let Jord’s hand fold into his own. He circled his thumb in Aimeric’s palm and was surprised to look up and see Aimeric with a crooked smile on his face. 

“Why are you here, Jord?” Aimeric asked. There was no malice in his tone. He just asked the question bluntly, softly. 

“I wanted to make sure you were alright.” It sounded like such a silly thing even to his own ears, but in the midst of everything that had happened he had to know that Aimeric was alright. 

“I’m not going to try again, if that was what you wanted to know.” Aimeric looked down at his hands and tested the bonds. Though awkwardly positioned, they seemed secure. “The guards even made sure of it.” 

“It must make it difficult to sleep,” Jord muttered. Aimeric shrugged in response. Jord eyed the knot. It would not be hard to loosen. If Aimeric could be trusted not to –

He looked up and saw Aimeric shaking his head slightly. “You have already gotten into enough trouble on my behalf, Jord.” 

Jord felt the tips of his cheek warm. Perhaps Aimeric was right. 

“What will you be doing now?” Aimeric asked, his expression curious. 

“The Prince intends to ride out soon.” 

“And you?” 

Jord had to pause before he could answer, although it was not from doubt. “I intend to follow him.” 

Aimeric gave a small smile in response. It was soft. Crooked. “I wish you wouldn’t,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I suppose that is selfish of me.” 

“I want to stay,” Jord replied, his voice sincere. “But I have sworn an oath.” 

“I know,” Aimeric said. 

“I’ll be back,” Jord swore. “Whatever happens, I’ll find a way to be back.” 

He said it blindly, without thinking. Aimeric did not respond for a moment. In the quiet, Jord had time to reflect on what it was that he had actually said. The odds of it seemed impossible. He would be marching on Laurent’s orders. He did not know where that might take him. He did not know how long this war might last. But he knew that he could not find a way to live with himself if he did not find a way back to Aimeric. 

Aimeric finally began, very slowly, “You know, I’ve heard that from men before.” And then he gave a small laugh even as he shook his head. “But this time, for the first time, I can actually believe it.” 

Jord rose from the chair and moved to lean over the bed. Aimeric leaned forward until their lips were touching. It was a long kiss and surprisingly, perhaps, after all that had happened, gentle. Jord savored the taste of Aimeric, the way he went pliant as Jord held him. Jord knew he had to savor it; it might be a while before they could have another. But Jord was glad, at least, to have gotten the opportunity for this last kiss.


End file.
